


Palpitations

by divybread



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Love, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 14:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divybread/pseuds/divybread
Summary: “Look. I’m not usually the type to lie, so I’m just going to be straight about it. I think you’re fucking gorgeous and I’m damn attracted to you.”A sudden grin.“Well, I guess that’s more me being gay about it.”





	Palpitations

**Author's Note:**

> Well then... I wanted to write something again so I did. It's not long, it's not much, but I hope it's enjoyable.

 

#  _One._

They meet in a bar.

They meet in a bar and Yixing spills his drink right on the guy’s shirt, because he didn’t expect anyone behind him as he turned away from the bartender. For a split second, Yixing feels as if a hush has fallen over the crowd while the guy’s eyes slowly wander upwards from his stained shirt. But then their gazes lock, the taller male’s lips curl into a smile, and it’s like all the noise starts again all at once.

“I’m so sorry!” he instantly apologises, watching the way the Bloody Mary stains the guy’s white shirt, liquid seeping further and further into the fabric, causing it to cling to skin and toned muscles like a thin layer. When his eyes catch those of the stranger next, he becomes acutely aware of the awkwardness of the situation and can only hope it won’t be held against him.

“It’s aight, man,” he is told, as the stranger pulls the shirt over his head like it’s no big deal – like they’re not in public – and drops it over Yixing’s arm. “Just make sure you get it clean or you owe me a new shirt.” And after being granted a front row view to a handsome grin, it’s like he becomes part of the furniture as the guy turns his attention to the bartender and completely ignores his existence after that.

Slightly dazed, Yixing walks back to his friends, delivering a half-empty Bloody Mary and carefully folding up the shirt.

#  _Two._

There’s no one around but them, and Yifan’s expression seems to brighten at the mere sight of him.

“Mary!” the tall man exclaims, and Yixing automatically looks behind him to find the girl Yifan must be talking to, even though he rationally knows there’s no one there. When he turns back to the front, Yifan is already with him and he gets wrapped into a very unexpected hug.

“How you doing, man? Where’s the rest of your group? Spilled any drinks on anyone lately?” The chuckle that follows is what finally makes him realise that Yifan must be drunk – or high? – and so he lets the given affection wash over him, including the very sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“They’re still in bed, I guess,” he dutifully replies. “Haven’t spilled anything on anyone as far as I’m aware of, no.”

Yifan’s laugh is too much, sounds fake, but he lets that pass too.

“That’s a shame, dude, that’s a shame. Hopefully you’ll get some action again soon.” He’s shoved against the arm, then Yifan lets him go again entirely. He somehow feels almost relieved.

“See ya, Mary! Don’t go bumping into anyone!”

Yifan’s still grinning as he walks away. Yixing watches him go with tired eyes, all the way until the tall guy disappears out of sight. Only then does he continue his run around the track.

He doesn’t stop to wonder what Yifan was doing there to begin with until he’s back at his bag an hour later, panting and sweating, but feeling satisfied with his results.

He doesn’t find an answer to the suddenly nagging question.

#  _Three._

He opens the door of his dorm room and is barely in time to catch Yifan’s weight as it quite literally falls against him. There are two arms around him easily enough, and he can’t help but smile in amusement as he pulls his head back a little to be able to look at Yifan.

“And what do you think you’re doing here?” He questions, but it’s done in a light way. “Are you drunk again? Cause you can sleep it off on the floor. I’m not giving up my bed.”

“That’s okay,” Yifan says, and Yixing figures he must definitely be drunk. “We can share. Clearly I’m the big spoon.” And before there is even time for protest, Yifan has pulled them both down onto the bed. Yixing hits his shin on the wooden frame, but his curse gets lost in the amount of Yifan that drapes around him.

For a moment he lays motionless, then he decides to relax and just let it happen. He’s tired enough to even sleep like this anyway.

“You are very handsome,” Yifan says into the hair behind his ear. “I’ve never seen anyone as breath-taking as you before. I really hope you’re into guys.” A pause, then a snort. “I really hope _I’m_ into guys. Goodnight, Mary.”

Suddenly he’s wide awake, nothing of the tiredness left, no urge to sleep rising up in him. Instead he becomes hyper aware of the arms around him and the way Yifan’s breath evens out against the back of his neck.

He gets very little sleep that night.

#  _Four._

“What are you looking at me like that for? Beer?” Yifan holds out a cup to him and he takes it, taking a sip of its contents and averting his gaze to a few people dancing nearby.

“You okay, Mary? You seem awfully strange lately. More so than usually.”

He has to accept in that very moment that Yifan doesn’t remember, that he is the only one with the memories of that night haunting him every second. He forces a grin and shrugs.

“Not drunk enough.”

He proceeds to pour the entirety of the cup’s contents down his throat, then breathes out a deep sigh.

And moves on.

#  _Five._

“Look. I’m not usually the type to lie, so I’m just going to be straight about it. I think you’re fucking gorgeous and I’m damn attracted to you.”

A sudden grin.

“Well, I guess that’s more me being gay about it.”

He can’t help it; he snorts, and then he shakes his head a little in exasperation.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” He smiles shortly, then shrugs. “But I’m going to have to be straight about it. Sorry.”

Yifan nods, without even a hint of regret or disappointment in his expression. For some reason that makes him feel upset rather than relieved.

“What? No tears or begging?” he jokes.

“If I thought it’d help,” Yifan responds, and Yixing knows he’s serious despite the grin. “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

That shuts him up all the way home.

#  _Six._

Beer and liquor are a bad combo, that’s for sure. And it is most definitely even worse on the way back up. He gulps down a bit of water but has to admit defeat when it comes back out shortly after, along with another wave of the disgusting mix. He groans loudly, resting his forehead against the toilet seat while he raises a hand to flush.

“How much did you let me drink?” He questions miserably. Yifan remains quiet. “Hey tall guy, I’m talking to you. I thought we agreed you were going to stay sober and keep me in check? What happened to that?”

“Nothing.” Somehow Yifan’s voice sounds strange. “I tried to get you to go home but you wouldn’t listen, you just kept getting more drinks.”

He breathes out a deep sigh, then proceeds to dry heave over the toilet bowl some more.

“Looks like you’re empty,” Yifan says, and he grunts in agreement.

“Nothing more to spill. So, what happened? Bring me some aspirin, would you?” He hears Yifan move about, but keeps his eyes closed with his forehead resting against the toilet seat. “This thing smells like ass.”

There’s a snort almost right next to him, then a glass of water and what he presumes will be aspirin are pressed into his hands.

“What happened is you drank way too much and started doing stupid things. But no worries, I didn’t let you do anything embarrassing in public, nor anything you have to feel ashamed about. So you can deal with your hangover in peace.”

He gladly leans into the cool washcloth that’s pressed against his forehead, then shifts to be able to down the aspirin.

“Now move to the couch so I can clean this ass-smelling thing.”

#  _Seven._

“You let me _what_?”

Shock, disbelief, a hint of anger. His eyes temporarily narrow as he takes in the face of his current best friend. Then he starts to grin lightly.

“You’re messing with me.”

But Yifan doesn’t grin back. In fact, Yifan looks downright terrified, and Yixing’s grin fades away again too.

“Look, you suddenly grabbed me. I couldn’t stop you before you were kissing me and I…” Hesitation, then determination. “Fuck, you know I’ve been into you for ages, man. So I didn’t push you away. Sue me.”

Yifan’s talking like he doesn’t care, but by now they’ve known each other long enough for Yixing to recognise the tension in his shoulders and the fact that he’s anxiously waiting for Yixing’s reply.

“Well…” He says, considering. “Well then…” He keeps looking at Yifan, at the stress and the fear and the goddamn courage it must have taken to admit that out loud, to risk everything in favour of being honest.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Well it ain’t your fault if I leaned in, right? So okay. I’m sorry I did that without permission, though.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind. And you were drunk.”

“Insanely drunk.”

“You do stupid things when you’re drunk.”

Yifan grins at him, but Yixing sees the sadness underneath.

Still, he doesn’t contradict him.

#  _Eight._

“We did it, dude!”

Yifan’s grinning face greets him when he turns around and he grins right back.

“We did it,” he agrees, pulling his best friend into a tight hug.

“Graduated,” Yifan says as they let go and he grins even wider.

“Who would have thought, huh?” He replies easily.

“Well… I mean… I didn’t think I was going to be there forever. Although it would have been nice.”

He laughs. He tries not to think of what Yifan might be referring to – nice to stay with him or nice to be in college forever? – and instead throws an arm around Yifan’s shoulders.

“Let’s go celebrate!”

#  _Nine._

He’s drunk.

Well, a little.

He’s a little drunk, and he’s looking at Yifan laughing over a joke somebody made, then turning to smile at him.

He’s a little drunk and he sees it suddenly in Yifan’s eyes. The love, the attraction, the longing.

He’s a little drunk and he thinks if he just gets a bit _more_ drunk, he might be able to give Yifan what he wants, what he’s always wanted.

He orders another drink.

#  _Ten._

“Yixing, wha-?”

“Sshhh.”

The finger he intended to put on Yifan’s lips ends up somewhere on the taller male’s cheek, but it still shuts him up just fine, so Yixing doesn’t mind. He moves his hands then to grab Yifan’s shirt and pull him in, while simultaneously leaning in and thereby crashing their lips together. He closes his eyes, thinks of kissing, just kissing, and not who he’s doing it with, and goes for it.

Yifan pushes against his chest. Hard.

“Yixing, don’t. You’re going to regret it again in the morning. I don’t want our friendship ruined over this and I don’t want to lie about it again.”

He looks into Yifan’s eyes, into the desperation, the pain, the longing. He closes his eyes again.

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” he says.

Yifan kisses him.

#  _Eleven._

“I was drunk,” he says, looking at his best friend’s pain displayed so openly. Caused by him. His fault.

“Not _that_ drunk,” Yifan counters almost desperately.

“No, not that drunk, but still drunk.” He doesn’t waver, doesn’t look away from the destruction he’s causing even as he’s doing it. “I can’t… I don’t… Not sober.”

He sees something inside Yifan break. He sees something ultimately precious give way and accept reality as it punches him in the face.

“I’m sorry.”

Yifan shakes his head, dismissing the apology.

“It’s not your fault.”

He still doesn’t look away, _can’t_ look away, even as he fears what will follow.

“I just shouldn’t have kept on hoping.”

#  _Twelve._

It’s a big win for his company, and so he invites his friends and colleagues to celebrate. He throws down some good money to make sure the celebration is up to par, orders some champagne for everyone, tells the story of how he’ll be able to buy a proper house ten times over.

Yifan pulls him apart later on in the night, takes him outside for some fresh air.

“You’re drunk,” he is told, and he grins a bit stupidly.

“I’m drunk,” he agrees. “Can’t believe how long it’s been. One of the downsides of growing up, I guess. Can y-”

Yifan pulls him into a kiss.

#  _Thirteen._

He sits at a table in the bar, holding a beer in his hand, looking at the man opposite him. Yifan’s looking at him too in a sort of searching way. He doesn’t try to answer questions that aren’t being asked, wondering if it might be better to leave the truth in silence. Wondering if Yifan’s wondering the same thing.

“So…” Yifan eventually speaks. “How’s work?”

He hums, shrugs. “Work’s fine. The company’s doing good, you know that.”

A nod. Silence. He steadily empties his beer then orders another one.

“You’re going to be drunk like that,” Yifan says as a sort of warning. He looks at his best friend in silence for some time.

“I am going to be,” he says then, almost solemnly so.

Yifan gives him another quizzical look but doesn’t bring it up again.

Three hours later they’re in the hallway of his new house.

Kissing.

#  _Fourteen._

“Don’t be ridiculous. You need a place, I’ve got the space. Literally no one is going to think it’s strange that you’re staying here. You’re my best friend, Yifan.” He rolls his eyes and deposits Yifan’s luggage in the spare bedroom, ignoring the stab of guilt he feels for using those words.

A part of him has begun to wonder when Yifan will break all the way through, when words like that will start hurting the taller man so much he’ll get angry.

When Yifan will decide to move on.

But Yifan merely puts on a smile, nods and sets the rest of his luggage down next to the one Yixing so unceremoniously dumped there.

“You’re my best friend too, Yixing. I really appreciate this.”

He mutters something like ‘of course’, then walks away to give Yifan time to unpack and settle in.

#  _Fifteen._

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

Yifan’s whispering against his shoulder, tears already staining his shirt. He swallows and slowly lets go of the tall male. It’s not an answer he’d usually give – Yifan’s the honest one, not him – but he’s drunk. He’s drunk, and he cares, and he owes Yifan some sort of honesty after all the hurt he’s already caused over the years.

“Because I hate seeing you in pain. I want you to have what you want to have. You deserve that. And if this is the only way I can give it to you, then I will.”

Yifan makes a strangled noise against his shoulder and the grip on his shirt tightens.

“I’m sorry,” he says, putting a hand on Yifan’s back. “I’m sorry I hurt you so much.” He listens to the way Yifan tries to hold back the sobs, tries to keep himself together. He listens to how Yifan eventually draws breath to speak.

“I love you, Yixing.”

His heart breaks. He closes his eyes. He wraps his arms around Yifan tightly and pulls him close.

He crosses the point of no return.

“I love you too.”

#  _Sixteen._

He grabs a beer from the fridge, Yifan pulls it from his hands.

“It’s not healthy,” he’s told. “Plus, it makes your breath smell. That can’t be good for business.” He watches with a slight frown the way Yifan puts the beer back, but he doesn’t get a chance to question it as Yifan quickly disappears back into the living room after.

They spend the evening just watching tv and joking about the people that pass by on the screen. He feels strangely empty.

When he goes to bed later that night, he lies awake for a long time, wondering why it feels like something’s missing.

Wondering if Yifan feels that way to.

#  _Seventeen._

It’s been months. Months since he last drank. Yifan’s not been letting him.

But Yifan’s not there right now, so he pulls the beer out of the fridge.

An hour later, he sits in the kitchen surrounded by empty cans and bottles of beer. Yifan finds him there, then slowly takes in the scene with a deep frown. He gets up from his chair and walks over to the tall male.

“Yixing,” Yifan protests, putting a hand on his chest to keep him from moving in too close. He doesn’t push, but simply looks into Yifan’s eyes. It takes a moment before realisation sinks in, and Yifan’s eyes widen slightly in surprise when it does.

“You’re not drunk,” is the eventually spoken conclusion.

“I’m not drunk,” he agrees. “I haven’t even had a drop.”

The pressure of the hand on his chest falters, uncertainty laces Yifan’s expression.

Yixing leans in and kisses him.

#  _Eighteen._

He pulls away slowly, only opening his eyes when the contact is broken. Yifan’s expression is still a mixture of surprise, confusion, insecurity and – newly added – hope. But the can’t say anything, doesn’t want to break whatever frail spark he’s ignited.

“You…” Yifan utters, eyes searching his for answers, for truth. “Are you for real?”

It makes him smile, a chuckle soon following.

“Yeah. I know I’m breath-taking, but last time I checked I was still real.”

He grins. Yifan punches him in the arm.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m still sober,” he says, eyes wandering over Yifan’s face.

Then, he finally finds the right words.

“I missed it.” A breath. “I missed you.”

He sees whatever Yifan’s been trying to hold inside finally break through to the surface. He sees a smile that could rival the sun for brightness. He sees all the pain and hurt and sadness from the past fall away in the face of this revelation.

He sees the distance between them being closed again.

He doesn’t pull away.

#  _Nineteen._

He never pulls away again.


End file.
